When In Rome, Right?
by Mister Evil
Summary: Hermione and George struggle to deal with what happened one drunken night and the possibility of adding another life into a world thats still struggling to bounce back after its second war. (SLIGHT AU)
1. Chapter 1

_**Word Count: 2,728**_

 _ **Team: Ballycastle Bats**_

 _ **Position: Keeper**_

 _ **Prompt: Write about a pregnancy that causes problems for the relevant parties (for example, parents, family, friends, etc).**_

* * *

"When in Rome, right?" I blinked drearily at the fuzzy form that I'm sure was Ron at some point across from me before taking back the next shot of Fire-whiskey.

"Wassat even mea', Hermen?" Oh right, I forgot Ron didn't get my sayings. Stupid. How many years has it been since he met me? Seven? I dunno. Could be 30 and he'd never get my muggle phrases. Why did I even try to talk to him? Probably because he'd always been there? I guess? That was sad. I was dating a guy not because we really had anything in common, but because he'd always been there.

I giggled a bit as I stared at the empty shot glass I'd brought over to the Weasley's. This was supposed to be a celebration party; we'd finally graduated after the stupid war and Molly even took her hubby away for a vacation. A whole week! Just for drinking and being...kids.

"Heeeeerrrrrmen, I don't..." Ron's drone seemed to stop half way before the tell-tale sign of someone about to throw up made its way through his mouth.

"THE BATHROOM! GO-GO-GO!" I had jumped up before I tugged him out of his seat by the edge of his sweater, forgetting for a second that we weren't the only ones in the house.

"I'll be out here, kay?" I bobbed my head up and down after I released him on top of the thing that I'm about 70% sure was the toilet. I couldn't really deal with the action of someone violently throwing up without throwing up myself. The smell, the convulsions, the sounds...Disgusting. I think I need to step outside.

I stumbled outside the door and let my legs give out from under me as the world spun a little in the dim lighting of this hallway. Everything now was a little...surreal. It'd been almost a year since the war had finished and we started our final year at Hogwarts. Its funny how fast things go now, theres nothing that stops the days from turning into each other.

"Hermione?" I blinked a bit, realising that there was now a pale foot in front of me...why is it touching me?

"Huh?" I tried to shoo it away from me with an attempt at a wave of my hand. Instead, my hand just kinda flopped downwards to land against the floor.

"Wow." I mumbled as I stared at it.

"Who would have thought that the smartest of the Golden trio couldn't hold her alcohol?" I let out a low 'mhm' up until I felt everything being jerked up from some unseen force.

"Woah." I grabbed onto the smooth maroon fabric in front of my eyes out of fear of falling from whatever was holding me up off the ground. Wait...how is this happening? I forced my eyes up to see pale skin and frowned.

"Harry?" I furrowed my brow as a short chuckle was let out of my carrier.

"Not even close." If it wasn't Harry then I wasn't sure who else would be up right now, all but the two eldest Weasleys were home right now too. What time was it now? 4 A.M.? Five? I know I looked at the clock before Ron and I started our drinking contest but I can't remember what time it said it was.

"Here we are. Wake me up if you need something, okay?" I felt my body being laid down on something warm but soft so I rolled over, feeling out the edges of what appeared to be a bed.

"Kay." A single bed that creaked when I moved but something didn't feel right. I could hear the breathing of someone else which fit with what I needed to feel like I could sleep but it was so cold in here.

I rolled onto my other side and stared into the darkness of the room until I heard a low crow of a rooster. I guessed this room had some sort of charm to darken it but I couldn't keep my thoughts straight enough to filter through my mental list for its name.

Standing as quietly as I could, despite the bed and the creaking floorboards, I searched through the dark until I bumped into another bed. My fingers drifted over what were possibly a sheet and a leg up until I felt something hard. I continued moving up past what felt like a hip bone until the body moved.

"What are you doing?" A hand grabbed mine, stilling my fingers from their movements, as a sleep ridden voice mumbled to me.

"What I want to do?" I felt a lot more confident than I sounded, my statement had turned into more of a question by the time I'd finished it. This was Ron I was dealing with, so I didn't get why he was stopping me right now outside of the usual confusion he had when he was sleepy.

"Let me." I wanted to mentally clap my own back for how entirely sober and confident I'd sounded. Sometimes it was nice to have a little power to wield now and then. The hand released its hold slowly, and I nibbled on my lip a little as I moved to get into the bed too.

The night rolled on into the next day with sweat on my skin, just like it always had. Though this one was a little more pleasant than that nightmares forced me to wake up in a sweaty mess.

"Hermione." I groaned at the sound of my name being said through the splitting headache I'd discovered at the same time as I woke up from a rare dreamless sleep. The sound of Ginny's girly giggling angered my headache even more so I rolled over to push my face into a pillow I'd found.

"Leave me alone to die." I spoke into the pillow I'd shoved my face into as I pulled the covers over my head.

"Mum and dad are back, breakfast is downstairs when you want it." I gave her another groan for a response until I heard another small girlish giggle and a pair of feet going down the stairs. Ginny had always walked with heavy steps and unfortunately today was no different than yesterday or the day before.

I forced myself out of the bed I'd some how found myself in with little recollection as to how, but I also didn't really care. All I wanted to do today was eat some breakfast after I dug through my bag for a potion or two.

By the time my headache and associated nausea had gone away, it was past dinnertime but I swallowed the weirdness to dig through the Weasley's cupboards for snacks. No matter how many times Molly had welcomed me into her house, I still couldn't get over just going through the kitchen like I owned the place. I picked up a box and peeked inside to see little jelly looking candies.

I reached inside and pulled a single green one out and looked at it. It didn't look like any sort of candy I'd ever seen before which had my head going for a bit of ride but it wasn't all that bad. I hadn't bothered putting as much thought into things like I had before the war. It was so tiring, overthinking everything to the point that I forced myself day in and day out to plan our every move. Not that it did anything terrific for us, Voldemort still ha-

"I wouldn't eat that if I were you." A voice from across the room gave me a scare as my head spun to look at its owner.

"It's bit of product that seems to have gotten lost." George gave me a small smirk as he came closer to hold out his hand.

"How did that even get in here?" My brow furrowed and before I could control it, my mind seemed to have started trying to figure out all the possibilities again.

"Boxes get moved. Big family, messy house." He shrugged it off easily enough, but I wasn't really buying it.

"You don't live here anymore." I raised a brow as I finally handed over the box of mysterious origin to its supposed owner.

"You realise I lived here for a good 17 years before, right?" His chuckle was low and more gravelly than I remembered it being before. Well...I guess I hadn't heard him laugh much since Fred.

"Whatever, none of my business." I shrugged robotically as I turned back towards the cabinet I'd crouched in front of.

"I guess. What did Ron think of last night?" His question made me feel like I was missing something but I shrugged again. Ron had been fine outside of our shared hangover problems.

"He was...normal?" I wasn't entirely sure how to answer that so I focused on rifling through the cabinets and grabbed a bag of crisps.

"Thats surprising. Guess he's grown up a little, his temper used to be something fierce." George's tone was oddly strained, but he seemed amused with the situation as I stood up again.

"I guess so." I had shrugged before I moved towards the doorway to get up to my bed again.

"You've grown up too though, in more ways than one." He held my eyes for a second longer than I was entirely comfortable with so I looked away and choose not to voice any of the curiosity bubbling at the back of my throat.

I gripped the bag of crisps and went to the makeshift bed in Ginny's room with them to become a giant potato. As I stumbled my way into my bed, I let out a small sigh to myself. It was quiet in here, but that didn't stop time from moving forwards without my consent.

Night turned into day and then day into night for another month before my world came crashing down around me. All it took were four words from Molly after I couldn't stomach the smell of beans one early Sunday morning.

"Hermione...are you pregnant?" She was practically grinning from ear to ear, but that didn't stop the sound of total silence from engulfing the breakfast table.

"What?" I could feel the blood draining from my face as I kept a hand over my mouth and nose to block the smell.

"When we had the twins, I couldn't stand being around beans." Molly motioned towards the plate in front of Ron who sat next to me. We both looked at each other with equally pale faces. Ron and I hadn't...not since last month. We didn't even sleep in the same bed anymore; his night terrors were too much for me to be around.

"No. Not possible." Ron let out a small nervous laugh as he sat his fork down on the plate.

"No?" Molly's face fell a bit at his denial but mine remained just as clammy feeling while my heart beat started to thump in my ears.

"I mean...she'd be showing by now right? Three months is a while." His voice dropped down to a whisper as though that would some how keep the rest of his family from hearing this. What did he mean three months?

"Ronald...Wha-" My head spun around to stare at him with confusion before the words died in my mouth. I glanced around the table, eliminating the possibilities based on their expressions and where abouts last month.

It was hard to remember much of anything all, but I knew for a fact it couldn't have been Arthur and Har- George. No. That couldn't possibly be. He was dating Angelina last I'd heard and we so rarely talked, I mean he barely even looked my way since I'd found his box of weird jelly candies. He was always in his shop.

"Ho-" George cleared his throat before continuing.

"Hm?" Molly's and the rest of the table's attention turned to him, while my heart continued to deafen the silence.

"Um. How did you figure out th-that you were um. Pregnant, mum?" His hand was still holding onto the fork he'd been using, but his knuckles were turning white. He had to be thinking along the same lines as I had.

"Well...I was pretty exhausted, and I couldn't stop myself from eating salty things. Oh! And of course, I'd vomit if I came anywhere close to beans." She laughed, but I felt more like digging my own grave at the moment.

"Right. Of course." He was mumbling to himself, but I could barely hear it over the sound of everyone starting to eat again now that the shock was over and done with.

"Sorry, dear. It's an old lady's wishful thinking." She smiled at me then turned to continue talking to her husband.

If I were...pregnant. It'd have to have been him; we hadn't left the Burrow except for when the entire family had gone to Diagon Alley and Ron slept in George's old room. I glanced at George until he finally looked back up from his plate and shifted my eyes at the kitchen to give him some sort of signal that I wanted to talk in private.

I stood without saying much and moved to clear off my plate in the kitchen sink. It didn't take long for George's plate to appear next to me so once I'd finished methodically scrubbing, I picked his up.

"I need to go to London, or a store or something." I kept my voice low as I scrubbed at his plate.

"Right. Right. Um. Okay. I'll tell mum that I need to drop by my store and uh...I need you to..." He struggled for words.

"Check your accounts. You need to me check your accounts." I supplied them readily without paying much attention to the clean plate I continued to scrub.

"Right! Um. Hermione..." He seemed to have something else he wanted to say so I just continued to scrub.

"What are we going to do if we are..." My throat seemed to close itself up somehow as I considered that possibility.

"I'll figure it out. Angelina is your...situation, not me." I forced the words out of my mouth with some hint at being totally calm and in control of the situation, despite how helpless I felt at the moment.

"Hermione...what does our child have to do with my ex-girlfriend?" He sounded confused, but his words were all but static to me. I couldn't have a kid right now; I was trying to figure out my life. It wasn't the time to add another life into the equation.

"There isn't a kid right now. Theres at most a couple of cells and I'm just bloated and tired right now. I have a stomach bug and some back pain. Thats all." I accidentally dropped the plate forcing me to jump as it shattered on top of the pots at the bottom of the sink.

"Hermione? You okay?" I swear Molly had an innate ability to know when something in her house was broken, which might have been thanks to having so many boys in her house.

"I'm fi-" I wasn't prepared for the aroma of beans she brought with her into the kitchen and ran for the bathroom to avoid any more chaos than I'd caused already. I hadn't realised I'd been followed in until a hand came around to pull my hair back from my face as I lost the sausage I'd had for breakfast.

"Thats some stomach bug." George's sarcasm was the last thing I wanted to deal as I grabbed toilet paper to wipe my mouth.

"Shut up." I hated throwing up. The sound, the convulsions, the smell...it was disgusting.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd been sitting in the bathroom at my parent's old house for a total of three hours. Idly I patted myself on the back for keeping the house even though my mum and dad said they'd enjoy Australia so much that I should sell it once they had remembered their daughter. They thought it'd be smart for me to either stay in it while I worked, or to sell it and take the funds to find a place near the Ministry.

I hadn't done either just yet.

Currently, I was wondering why I'd ever been called the smartest witch of our age. Smartest witch, my arse. I wasn't smart enough to not get pregnant, nor was I the smartest to consider the ramifications of this. So far, I'd found three options for a pregnant girl who recently finished school.

1.) I figured out a way to sleep with Ron in the next day or so, and let the pregnancy take it's course with him as the dad.

2.) I spilled the beans and let the chips fall where they may, whether or not Ron forgave me or George decided to step up to fatherhood.

3.) I terminated the pregnancy and the Weasleys would be none the wiser.

How had I been this utterly _stupid_?

Why had George let me into his bed so easily, shouldn't he have been grieving still?

What was I going to do now?

I stared at the white tiles lining the bathroom floor, a lone pregnancy test sat across from me with a single stark pink line and a faint second pink line. The first line had been a relief for maybe 20 seconds. I'd felt like I might actually just be sick, my body hadn't bounced back as well as I'd hoped after being on the run with Harry and Ron.

But then came the second line, creeping and barely evident. It was irritatingly faint, taunting my plans for the future with failure. So...now I was stuck between wondering if maybe the cramping and bleeding I'd had last week hadn't just been a miraculously short period or if it'd been a miscarriage.

I should have realised that I wouldn't get that lucky, to have only a day or two of cramping and bleeding and be done with that shit part of being a girl. No, of course not. There was always _more_. Why would I have ever thought that I'd get off that easily?

To be fair, my conscience bristled with indigence as I cursed my idiocy, I'd always had shorter periods than most girls I knew. Mine was usually at most five days long and consisted of some mild discomforts that were solved by going braless and a few tablets. Sarcastically I considered that if I were pregnant, I wouldn't have to worry about bleeding through my pants for the next nine months.

Within the bathroom that I'd once learned how to pee in, I found myself corralling guilt and anger into a neat little box to slide in the back of my mind. I was alone in this and while I often relished in being physically alone, I was also feeling alone in every sense of the word. Who could I possibly turn too right now? Everyone I was friends with were related to the Weasleys in some shape or form, I was doom-

Luna. Luna wasn't related to the Weasleys at all and she hadn't left for Sweden just yet, I believe. I stood up quickly, ignoring the familiar prickling in my feet as I realised that I'd been crouched up against the bath for far too long and attempted to focus on exactly where the Lovegood's home was.

With a wave of my wand and some stomach-curling nausea, I found myself at Luna's childhood home. It'd been rebuilt for the most part, though the Dirigible plums appeared to have finally floated away from their perch near the front door. I knocked once and bit my lip, nervous that she wouldn't be here and nervous that she'd somehow have an entire change of heart. One in which she'd curse me for my adulterous ways and owl the Weasleys with ev-

The large black door opened slowly, "Oh, hello, Hermione." Luna smiled at me, her hair pulled up into a tight bun atop her head and her wand behind one ear.

"Hi, Luna." I tried to smile back at her but found it rather difficult to do so.

"Hm." Her head tilted, large blue eyes seemed to glance over my person before she took a step forwards and I shuffled to the side to allow her space. "I always enjoy a walk, good for the mind, you know." She sounded as dreamy as ever as she took my hand for a short second, her eyes focused on what was ahead and never once behind her.

"Uh-um. Yes. A walk is good for the mind." I grappled for words, wondering how exactly she'd come to the conclusion that we'd need a walk next to the water after me uttering two words. As she shut the door behind her and started down the stairs, I realised that I'd forgotten her knack for her own personal brand of honesty. One that often lacked all manner of social decorum which had annoyed me to no end in the past, but it was also one that I'd come to value over the years.

"Knut for your thoughts, Hermione?" Luna's voice drifted over her shoulder once we'd gotten past the broken gate in front of the Rookery. I swallowed a lump of distress and nodded when she glanced over her shoulder at me, waiting as I caught up quickly. "Yes, um."

"I was hoping I could get your..." I pursed my lips, unsure as to how to word this exactly, "your opinion on something I've done."

"Fire away." She smiled, holding out her hand to me in a friendly gesture. "Right, well. Theres really no easy way to put this-I-I suppose." I hesitantly took her hand, wondering if I was meant to hold onto it, or shake it right now. It was often difficult to tell with Luna-what she wanted and what she meant to do in certain situations.

"I've found that the easiest way to say some things, is to merely utter it as it first comes into your mind." She nodded, grasping my hand and beginning to walk again after she'd wrapped her thumb around the back of mine.

"I'm pregnant," I almost shouted it at her and quickly attempted to rephrase it as something less scary sounding. "Well-I _might_ be pregnant." I nibbled on my lip when she hadn't really stopped to look at me, nervous that if she took a while to process this, it meant she was angry.

"It wasn't entirely clear, you know? The test I mean. The uhm-the second line was fuzzy, so I might have just blown this out of proportions." A short high-pitched chuckle erupted from my throat, as I watched her unwavering gaze on my face. I had no idea as to why she'd be angry, if anything I doubt that she'd understand my nervous disposition about this. Maybe she'd even just congratulate m-

"And it's not Ron's." Her wording was in the form of a question, but her tone told me that she'd already assumed this somehow. Luna was far more perceptive than I'd given her credit, thought sometimes I wished she wasn't.

"It's not." I was a single level above whispering, realising that it'd been the first time I'd actually said it out loud.

"It's not Ron's." I'd spent most of the day thinking it, agonising over that particular fact, but this was first time I'd said it to someone else. She came to a complete stop this time, bringing her other hand up to lay over mine. She smiled softly, in a way that only Luna could, and squeezed my hand lightly.

"And now you're scared? Maybe confused?" Luna's brow raised higher than I'd thought possible considering the forever surprised expression her features dictated. I nodded mutely, "seeing as you're Hermione, I imagine it might be best to simply tell him."

"Ron? He'd lose his mind and I'd only single handedly destroy a family, or-" I frowned, "or he'd feel nothing at all." I shook my head, denying that'd be the best idea at all. I wasn't a terrific liar but if I slept with Ronald son, he'd think it was his and maybe it'd never even come up!

He wouldn't have a bloody clue that I'd be showing much to early or that if everything went well; we'd have a baby that was born exactly on time as opposed to a month premature. He'd never know.

"It wasn't exactly you alone though, was it?" Her head tilted, "someone had to agree." I paused at that and my frown deepened, she was right. But that didn't make this situation any better.

"That doesn't _help_ anyone," I shook my head, feeling the tell-tale choking sensation that I was on the edge of crying, "I just need to get rid of it." I took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose as I calmed myself with my eyes shut.

"I don't have the means or the ability to raise a child right now." I hadn't cried since Fred's death, and I intended to keep it that way. This wasn't a crying matter, nor one that meant I should even consider the possibility of crying. I'd been an idiot and got myself into this mess, so I'd simply have to find a way out of it.

"Hermione..." Luna's voice had lost it's dreamy quality, instead she sounded sad. Sad was something I hadn't ever heard from her, she was usually so unflappable and so controlled-even if she'd just watched someone die, she was calm and distant.

"It's just an awful situation," I sighed as she squeezed my hand gently before I opened my eyes to see her brow furrowed.

"You're one of my treasured friends, and you're very clever." I shook my head at that, but she seemed to only shrug me off with a slight raise of her shoulders. "I know that you don't feel as incredibly clever as you are right now."

"I don't think that you realise you're not alone." I glanced away from her at that, and began walking again in an effort to focus on something outside of the current conversation.

A few minutes passed as we walked, Luna still held my hand and I found that I didn't mind it as much as I'd expected too. I wasn't the most touchy of people after the war, if anything I'd rather just give you a firm handshake and get on with it but here we were.

"It doesn't matter what I think or realise." I spoke up, electing to address her earlier statement in an effort to alleviate some of the guilt I felt right this second.

"Even a Heliopath must take a day off, Hermione." Luna's smile and phrasing left me reeling, what on earth was a heliopath?

I came to a complete stop, racking my mind for her ever mentioning such a creature. Helio had to equate to the sun, so maybe the sun's path? Or the sun beams? No wait, pathes was ancient greek for sufferer, so sun...sufferer? Well it could also mean therap-

"Even you need to focus on yourself for once, and if it means doing only what _you_ want to do," she shrugged, "so be it."

"It's not that simple." I frowned at her, attempting to stop myself from considering a heliopath once again. If I let my mind run away on a simple thing as figuring out what a heliopath was then it'd only be a short while before I obsessed over every little mistake I made last year.

"It actually is. I need to continue to pack for Sweden but, I imagine you'll be hearing from me within the week." I sighed again at the reminder that our time was limited when I needed so much more with her. She wasn't a conformist whatsoever, it'd made sense that she'd give me the best advice considering everyone else would just yell at me for betraying Ronald when he was still healing from the war's mental wounds.

"Hermione?" I raised a brow at her, realising I hadn't responded just yet. "You'll know what to do. Hermione always knows what to do."

I know that she was attempting to comfort me, but that phrase-that I always knew what to do, was wrong. I had no idea what to do right now. I hadn't even informed George, in fact I'd insisted on being entirely alone when I took the test this morning just so I could process it all and come up with a plan. He'd been upset but agreed and-oh. Oh crap. He's probably still waiting in his flat and it was well past noon by now, he'd been waiting at least five hours.


	3. Chapter 3

I was standing outside of his door, unable to force my hand to just simply grasp and turn his apartment's door knob. I knew this was silly, to just linger outside his door when I'd left him waiting for the past eight hours.

I'd almost gone to his place right after I'd spoken with Luna but decided to drop by the Ministry first, just to check in on my application for the Being department in the Care and Regulation area. Then, I'd told myself that it was best to check on Crookshanks before I did anything else, didn't want the poor thing to stare or die from dehydration...I _might_ have spent an hour just petting him until he'd gotten annoyed and wanted some alone time.

I really did understand that standing here was stupid and I knew I'd avoided this for as long as my morals allowed. I hoped that maybe he'd actually done something productive with his Monday but in the back of my mind, I knew he hadn't because that wasn't like the George I knew. He'd likely just waited for me, which didn't seem to matter to my hand so here I was...lingering.

It just continued to lay by my thigh, sometimes coming up and giving me hope only to fall back again. Stupid thing didn't know what was good for it. Standing outside George's door was cowardly, though at least I hadn't gone with my first plan which was to simply owl him a letter with four words in it: The results were inconclusive.

That'd make for an awful card though, wouldn't it? Maybe I could charm it so when he opened a nice classical tune played in the back? Or maybe some can-

I blinked as the door opened and George raised a brow at me, "coming in or shall I just close it and wait for you to decide in the next two weeks?"

"I'm coming in!" I almost stomped my way through the doorway when he took a step back, giving me room.

I heard George close the door behind me as he offered, "tea?" I shook my head, taking in his apartment and almost turning to walk right back out, "I'm fine, thank you."

It was a mess in here, I don't know if this was how he always kept it or if maybe I'd just come in on a lazy day. A pile of dirty clothes looked ready to stand up and start walking for a cup of tea from his kitchen or maybe eat the chair it'd been sat on in his living room. I imagined it'd been a recliner at some point, gauging by the bits of brown I could see underneath?

"Uh." I absentmindedly whispered to myself as my eyes scanned across what I could see of his flat. I imagined the bedroom was behind one of the three closed doors near his laundry chair and almost shuddered at the thought of how dirty the bathroom likely was.

The leather recliner was really the only new looking thing in here and it sat off to the side of a stained and tired looking sofa that contained a pillow and a forgotten blanket in a pile below the sofa. I could smell a faint hint of smoke, making me think that he'd been experimenting with whatever the black soot had been on his kitchen counter.

George strolled past me, looking less relaxed than he sounded, "have a seat, then Granger." He plucked up the pillow whose case could do with a good wash and laid it behind his back after he'd sat down.

I opened my mouth to offer him a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to clean his flat but closed my mouth just as quickly. He was a grown man, older than Ron and Harry, so why would he need me to come in and start meddling in his home? If he wanted that, he'd have asked. I glanced at George after he'd gone silent and found him staring at me with a raised brow as he gestured to the space next to him.

My mouth opened again to pleasantly decline the seat he'd offered but I began feeling a little dizzy, and frowned as I closed my mouth again. It was incredibly disorienting, and I wondered if I had an ear infection or something else was wrong while the room spun.

I began walking towards where I thought the sofa was while my world kept spinning. I was so sure that if I'd just be able to grab onto something stable, it'd stop the dizziness.

I felt a sharp pain in my shin and hissed, "ow!" I tried to step around it, not entirely sure as to what I'd ran as white silvery dots danced in front of my eyes. "Careful there," George almost snorted at me, making me glare where I imagined he was in front of the white dots.

I took another step, hoping this was the better way when I stumbled, hitting the pointy object again. I tried to right myself but found that I wasn't entirely sure which way that'd be and finally accepted that I'd likely fall over whatever I'd ran into.

"Hermione," George's voice appeared near my ears but foggy, like he'd been shouting but faded to a whisper during a dream of mine. I furrowed my brow, staring as my vision seemed to swim a touch more when I turned my gaze down to see what I'd smacked into. Something black-no. It was grey and boxy, I couldn't tell exactly what it was though as I found my world rearranged entirely.

It felt like I'd been scooped up or something as I closed my eyes and rubbed them with the bottom of my palms. I couldn't even recall the last time I'd gotten dizzy and I can honestly say that I didn't miss the sensation one bit.

"Hermione?" I blinked against my hands, savouring the darkness before I responded, "I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy." I moved my hands back, taking in the world and found that I could really only see the alarmed face of George Weasley as he peered over me.

"Is that normal? O-or is that uh." He cleared his throat while he shifted his grip on me, "A baby thing?" I paused at the sensation of his arms and legs against my backside, forcing me to realise I'd essentially been cradled against his chest.

"Well, it's not very normal for me, but um." I shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and electing to avoid the P word for now, "I haven't eaten today."

I intentionally averted my gaze as I went silent, hoping he wouldn't be able to see the outright panic I felt with the fact that the bloody stick had one bold line and one that'd been faint. A maybe wasn't any better of an answer than I'd started out my day with, and the sensation of ignorance was choking.

"Tsh. You need to eat, 'Mione." I gawked as he actually _tsked_ me and shook his head as though he was scolding a child. Me! Of all people!

I glowered as he sighed as though he didn't know what to do with me being so irresponsible. I was at least ten times more responsible than he'd ever been. Who was it that'd caught him snogging in the halls after hours? Me. Who tried to tell him that Dumbledore's age line wouldn't be fooled by an aging potion? Me, again!

"Come on, lets get you some food." I tried to tell him off but found myself gasping and wrapping my arms around his neck when he'd picked me up.

Suddenly the ground seemed so far away when I'd looked down before my grip quickly tightened and he gagged a little, "sorry." I mumbled, easing my grip as the sounds were him telling me that I'd almost choked him.

I think Fred and George had been the first boys to ever give me a nickname with George starting the age-old name. At first I'd hated when he said it and blushed rather horribly considering that an older boy, who I thought was rather attractive, had taken the time to think up a nickname just for me. It'd somehow felt special but then Harry started using it, which meant that Ron, of course, had to call me 'Mione as well. It'd lost it's charm quickly.

After he'd sat me down on his kitchen counter, I found myself annoyed and vaguely embarrassed. "I can walk, you know," huffing while I crossed my arms over my chest in indignation as he went through his cabinets.

"You do realise that I just watched a shoe cupboard almost take you out, right?" His tone wasn't necessarily cruel as he raised a brow at me after he'd grabbed out a can. It seemed that he was tentatively teasing me to see how I'd react and I wasn't sure why.

"What was it doing in the middle of the walkway then?" I scoffed, eyeing him with some derision. Well, I did sort of understand why. People had been rather...hesitant with me after I'd almost hexed Seamus Finnigan in our common room when he'd caused a cup of cocoa to explode and scared the life out of me.

"It was being built, of course. Why else?" He gave me a toothy grin, the first I'd seen from him in a long while. I stared at his white teeth for a moment in wonder before I shook it off and simply rolled my eyes at him.

I was too tired to deal with his non-sense right now, and vaguely I considered if that was why I'd been getting sick recently. Maybe if I just slept a little, this whole pregnancy scare would disappear and I could rest easy which might mean everyone else could rest easy around me as well for once.

When I'd gotten to the Burrow last month for our little celebration party, everyone had been easy-going at first. It was after I'd shouted at Ron during breakfast for consistently smacking his food that I'd been tiptoed around. It's odd; each time I'd exploded at someone, I _knew_ I was seriously overreacting but that didn't stop me from helplessly watching a girl that looked like me as she screamed at her friends or loved ones.

If someone asked if I was okay, I'd just say yes because thats what they needed to hear, right? They didn't need me to break down into a teary, snotty mess and blubber on their shoulder about how terrified I'd been about dying or how awful it was to see my classmate's dead bodies.

A warm bowl of red viscous substance with a spoon on top of it's surface was thrust cheerfully into my lap, "here you go." I raised a brow at it before glancing at George, "what is this?"

"Tomato soup." His response told me that he couldn't believe I lacked the ability to recognise tomato soup but by God, I don't think it's supposed to look like this. I turned my head and stared back at the soup that seemed to be slowly eating a dull silver spoon, oozing over the top of it while it sank.

"Have you got any milk?" I glanced back at George who had crossed his arms over his chest, leaning near his failed experiment on the counter opposite of me. "Yeah," he nodded, appearing confused before he went to the fridge and returned holding a carton of milk.

"Right. Well, I'm about to teach you how to make _good_ tomato soup." I grinned at him, placing the bowl next to me before I hopped off the counter and took the carton from him.

"Is this going to take long?" He raised a brow, eyeing me as I made my way towards his cooker with a hint of something unspoken. He didn't want this to take too long because we likely had a much longer conversation ahead of us and we both knew it.

I stopped, turning to face him fully before planting a hand on my hip. "Why? Got somewhere better to be? Hot date waiting maybe?" My intentions upon starting that line of questioning had been to tease him but I feared that it'd turned into something like an interrogation so I quickly winked at him.

"Nope. I'm free all night." He smirked at me, stifling the fear that he thought I'd begun accusing him of some sort of betrayal. I almost breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of it, choosing to focus on the relief rather than the warm feelings it'd elicited in my trousers.


	4. Chapter 4

I waited with bated breath as George scooped up a bit of the soup with his spoon and proceeded to stare at it speculatively. My anticipation quickly plummeted when he began to peek under the spoon before sniffing it and shaking it softly as though his actions would produce a reaction from the soup.

He'd began to stroke his non-existent beard while staring at the utensil in contemplation before I lost my patience, "just try it already!" I shook my hand at the spoon he'd been gawking at like a bloody philosopher until I'd yelled at him.

"Alright, alright. No need to get huffy," he snarked, giving me a smirk as though he'd just been doing all of that to see me yell. I narrowed my eyes and leaned over the table to snatch the spoon from his hands when it'd touched his lips. Ignoring his sound of complaint, "hey!" I quickly stuck it in my mouth, "I was going to eat that." George pouted, while I blissfully ignored him.

I was focused on tasting the softer flavour of a canned soup that had been made properly with milk and a cooker. My mum always made it like that and honestly, it beat anything you could magically do to it any day of the week in my book.

"So I take it, it's good?" I raised a brow in acknowledgement as I glanced over at him to see he was smirking now, "I'm only guessing from the face you made," he shrugged, eyeing my stare slyly, "reckon thats the face you made when you came last time."

His words registered in my brain with a hint of something concupiscent which startled me as I stared at him. "wah?" I mumbled, feeling a wave of heat surge in my core. He raised a brow, obviously not understanding that I'd attempted to say 'what', while his smirk only grew.

I'd decided that I'd just slowly breath in, so my face wouldn't start mimicking the colour of a cherry, but forgot about the spoon in my mouth. I'd began coughing harshly at the rounded edge's intrusion against the back of my throat before I pulled the spoon out of my mouth to give it back to him, all indecent thoughts forgotten quickly.

"Yeah. It's alright." I nodded, wondering if I'd taken this meeting a little too far. I was still technically dating Ronald and I'm not sure how he'd take me shagging his older brother against the kitchen counter. Nor was I sure if his older brother wanted anything long term with me.

I imagined that I'd always just been his little brother's bossy friend since we were kids, so how could he find me attractive? Obviously he did, becaus-nevermind, actually, it'd pretty been dark in his room.

"Right, right. I'll be the judge of that." He took the spoon, and dipped it into the soup before he stuck it in his mouth without fooling around for once. I waited quietly, wondering if he'd like it as much as I did and glanced around the kitchen instead of outright staring at him.

I was surprised at the state of his kitchen, honestly, it was actually rather hygenic in here. I could smell the faintest hint of bleach with something lemony, and the counters appeared spotless for the most part. There wasn't even any dishes in his sink, which was a grand bit of difference compared to my flat where the sink was almost always full of half empty cups of tea and coffee.

"It's pretty good. Nicely done, Granger." My stare darted back to him as he nodded, gazing at the bowl with a look of concentration, "do you think they'd be good as a stick?"

"What do you mean?" I raised a brow when he glanced up at me, "like as a candy. Maybe a snake shape instead of a stick? Jumps out at you when you open the package?" He seemed to be gaining speed in his speech, looking and sounding more enthusiastic before he turned and dashed off.

I stared at the place he'd been across the table from me with confusion, he'd just gotten up and ran off to the living room. I said nothing, wondering why on earth anyone would want a candy that jumped out at you when you opened up the box and why you'd want a sweet that tasted like tomato soup.

George scuttled back into his seat with a pencil in his hand and a notepad that he'd been scribbling into. "Maybe some billywig wings for the flavour, can't imagine soup would willingly dry itself out, right?"

I pursed my lips, realising that he wasn't actually speaking to me but just mumbling his thoughts out loud. "Specially not tomatoes. Stubborn little things."

"Are you making a new product?" I spoke softly after he'd stopped scribbling for a minute, hoping I hadn't interrupted his train of thought. I hated it when Ron or Harry interrupted me right in the middle of a sentence, I'd lose all notions of whatever brillant point I'd been making and scrap the whole sentence altogether.

"Yeah, the shops been reopened and all but holidays are right around the corner. I wanted to try out some new things." George nodded, not looking up from his notes. "Tried making that uh, non-explodable Luminous Balloon an hour ago, but it's hard to not pop the damn things when you stick a ball of light and holly in 'em." I assumed the balloon in question was the pile of black soot in his kitchen.

"Right." I pursed my lips at the mention of his shop as I'd been reminded of my black eye thanks to their idiotic boxing telescope. I'd walked around with that bloody ring around my right eye for a week before they finally handed over some of their bruise removal cream.

"Anyways," George seemed to have finally completed his thought, sliding the pencil behind his ear before turning his gaze to me. "It might be time to finally have that...talk."

I swallowed, panic and anxiety setting in as all traces of the previously relaxed atmosphere vanished. I didn't really want to have this talk, in fact I'd rather just go back to having fun while hanging out with him. Despite the fact that George was Ron's brother, I hadn't spared my boyfriend much thought after I'd gotten here and had something to eat.

"I'm not...sure." I sighed, turning to fish the test out of my jacket's pocket on the back of my chair. "What do you mean not _sur-_ " George's question seemed to have died when I limply held up the stupid stick that apparently decided the rest of my life.

"Isn't this supposed to be a simple yes or no?" George frowned as he plucked it from my hand and turned it over until he spotted the cap and pulled on it, "ah, maybe don't touch there!" I motioned across the table at the end he'd uncapped and was fingering with confusion, "why not?"

"Muggle tests are probably different than wizard's." I mumbled, biting my lip nervously as he peered at me. I wasn't actually sure for once, and made a mental note to peruse any books I had on healing when I got the chance.

"What'd you mean?" He glanced between my face, the cap in his hands, and the stick itself but didn't let go of the end. "I mean. It's obvious they're different, but I thought yours were quicker," I swallowed, fighting the urge to snatch it out of his hands and settled with nodding at him.

"Maybe you just got a defective one." He was mumbling now, pulling it closer to his face as he eyed the test with suspicion as though it'd suddenly submit and tell him that it was just defective.

"You uh. You have to pee on it and so you don't touch the...the pee end, you cap it." I made a motion of capping my imaginary stick with my fingers and he seemed to take a second to infer what I was getting at, glancing between the cap and the end of the test.

God, this was embarrassing to explain and I didn't know _why_ it was so embarrassing. Well, I did sort of know. I imagined it was probably because once upon a time, I had a crush on Fred and George. But that was ages ago, I was like 14 at the time and that was before I realised how awful their pranks were.

"Oh!" He nodded, quickly shifting his fingers and capping the end once again before he continued to analyse it. "Well, thats odd. Why would you need to piss on a stick?"

"It measures hormones to tell you if you're pregnant." I declared, recalling all of my textbook knowledge on sex from when my mother forced me to learn it out of fear that public school wouldn't teach me well enough.

"Hormones?" His brow was furrowed as he stared at me. I supposed there wasn't really a sex ed. class in Hogwarts or otherwise my mother would have insisted that I take it. It made me wonder though, how did anyone know about puberty or safe sex at all in the wizarding community? Was there a spell or chapter in our books that I'd missed somehow?

"Mhm." I nodded, deciding he was about to learn all there was to know but in a scientific manner. "After the moment of conception, which is when the egg is fertilised and implants itself, the body begins to produce the hormone, human chorionic..." I trailed off due to the fact that George was staring at me like I'd grown a hippogriff's head on my shoulders.

I pursed my lips, realising that I seemed to have lost him with my textbook terminology, and decided that I needed to explain it layman's terms. That settled it for me, I needed to start a petition for sexual education in wizarding schools as not everyone's mum would force them to learn about it.

Maybe some Mediwitches or wizards could give a short lecture on it for fourth or fifth years. Surely it'd have some use in a History of Magic class, how else would we reproduce? Hell, they'd dedicated hours to learning a bloody dance for the Triwizard Tournament.

"When you're pregnant, your body begins producing something called hCG, human chorionic gonadotropin. It's like a chem-no." I pursed my lips, thinking of a better description, "it's like a little signal in your body that tells it you're not sick, but pregnant." I waited, analysing his face for a moment to make sure I hadn't lost him again.

"And?" He appeared to have picked up on what I was doing and nodded, motioning for me to continue by waving the test at me.

"And, the level of it in your body increases as your pregnancy progresses. So, home pregnancy tests like that one are designed to detect that hormone." I motioned to the test he held in his hands.

"I gotcha." He pursed his lips in thought, flipping the test over again in his hands. "The first line is the control, yeah? Second is if you're positive or not?" He glanced up at me for a moment. Once I nodded he turned his attention back to the test in question with a speculative look as he stared at the little window in silence.

It was easier to talk about this...condition of mine when I could apply logic and science to it, almost felt like I distanced myself from that by using fancy words like conception or human chorionic gonadotropin. When I'd distanced myself from it, I realised that the test line might have been faint because I was producing less of it.

I watched him for a moment, wondering what was going through his head right now. I couldn't imagine he was thrilled, why would he be? He'd been running a shop by himself while probably mourning the loss of his twin and here I came with yet another weight to throw on his back. I should have just told him that it'd been negative, maybe grow a little distant for a year and come back next christmas with a red haired boy and hopefully a fatherly Rona-

"I'm glad you told me, you know?" I blinked, realising that I'd gotten distracted by my thoughts and found he was now watching me with the test between us on his kitchen table.

"I mean it's not much of an answer but it's something." I nodded at him slowly while we lapsed into silence. I wasn't entirely sure as to why he thought that getting the opposite of an answer was a good thing.

I didn't agree, if anything it was worse than not asking the question at all. There was some semblance of comfort in the reminder that since you didn't ask, you didn't need an answer. Now it was just a dark cloud following me around, because I did ask. I just didn't get much of an answer in return, more of a shrug really.

"Anyways, if you'd just kept it to yourself, I'd be pissed." He gave me a solid nod as if that communicated just how mad he'd be and it was my turn to snort.

"Why?" I almost laughed at how serious he looked over such a silly thing. How could he be mad? He wouldn't have even known, would he? No, he'd have thought the kid was just his niece or nephew.

"What'd you mean, _why_?" He peered at me incredulously, "I don't want _Ickle Ronnikins_ raising my kid, its mine to mess up over a series of years as I wish." He declared this with such confidence despite the high pitched voice he said Ron's nickname in that I couldn't stop myself from snickering at him. I held a hand up over my mouth, hoping it'd be more casual if I leaned on the table with it covering my mouth.

"I'm serious! I might as well just tell the poor sod, 'hey, sorry about your dad. I didn't feel like doing it. Good luck with being fun though'," he gave said imaginary child a sarcastic thumbs up before settling back in his chair.

"Fred would turn over in 'is bloody grave with rage if I was alive and let Ron raise any child of mine." He narrowed his eyes, possibly realising that I was on the verge of full on laughing at his seriousness. I couldn't help it! He's the one that insulted me first, so...there.

Though as I watched George huff, I had to admit that it was nice to have him mention Fred without everyone in the room suddenly going silent. It was like they all wanted to see if George would finally snap or maybe flip a table over and storm out.

Fred's name had become a bit of a curse-word in the Burrow, no one said it during Sunday breakfasts or dinners and those that made the mistake were given the evil eye until conversation returned to what it'd been. No one but Molly and George were given immunity to the evil eye when it came to saying Fred's name, I imagined that was because they'd been the most broken after his funeral.

"Uh huh." I nodded at him once I realised he was waiting on my response. I was trying my damndest to maintain a serious face as he stared at me, so he wouldn't feel like I was making fun of him...which I suppose I was.

"If you'd done that thing you always do-" I furrowed my brow at his words and interrupted him, "-what thing?" He closed his mouth, frowning at me before letting out a sigh.

"Where you try to keep your problems to yourself? Come on, you're not daft." He rudely snorted at me while I merely raised a brow, feeling a little offended.

"Is that a bad thing?" I continued to stare at him, confused as to what was wrong with doing that after he'd gone quiet. "Me keeping it to myself?"

Everyone had their own issues and mine were meant for me to deal with by myself, who else could I tell? Ronald? He was just barely keeping his head above water as is, I doubt that me adding to his worries would help his night terrors or his auror training.

"Yeah," George began to smile after a second and let out a soft chuckle like he thought I was telling a joke that he was slow to get. I frowned at him, not smiling or joining in on his chuckling out of spite.

"Seriously, Granger? You're supposed to be way smarter than me." I leaned back from the table with my best blank facade of a face, beginning to feel the anger that was simmering in my chest as he waved a hand at me.

"You do this thing where you keep all of your problems inside your pretty little head and somehow everything is supposed to be fine." He shook his head, fueling my anger even more as my blank face turned into a glare.

"I don't think everything's supposed to be _fine,_ thats infantile. I just choose to not dump my issues on everyone else." I scoffed, denying his idiotic claims defensively. I glanced away for a moment before silently scolding myself for averting his gaze and made sure I was staring strictly at his face.

"But you do! You try to play it off as this brave little charade, like you're some hero for not mourning and then-" He pursed his lips and curled his fist, letting out a low groan. "I didn't mean to say it like that."

"What _did_ you mean then?" I crossed my arms over my chest, which did make me feel a little better so I relaxed my glowering a touch. I decided it was best to wait for him to gather his thoughts while he mumbled something that I couldn't hear and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What I mean," he released his nose and settled on a softer tone, "is that you clam up when someone asks and can you guess what happens next, ey?" He'd paused like he was waiting for my response, which was to just glower at him as harshly as I could.

My glowering seemed to serve it's purpose in pissing him off as he'd rolled his eyes, which was quite the feat when you're trying to annoy George Weasley. If I wasn't so mad right now, I might have actually given myself a pat on the back for bothering him. George was one of those laid-back types that annoyed the shit out of me because nothing ever seemed to bug them.

"You scream at Ron for droppin' a plate or chewing with his mouth open," his arm waved to the kitchen behind me with some heat in his words.

"Then you go straight back to the whole 'don't worry about me' shit until it all starts over again." His words were sharp when he used air quotes. A little sharper than I'd thought possible for someone using _air quotes_ in an actual conversation. But, they still hurt like I'd been stabbed in the back.

"And? Am I supposed to just start crying and yelling about the war? _I_ choose to do it, I _choose_ to go on the run." I uncrossed my arms to point at my chest with some ferocity.

"Didn't have to! But I did, because it was the right thing to do." I snorted, crisply forming each word in a near shout at the man across the table from me. I was expecting him to go quiet, maybe even yell something back at me during this but instead he'd just rolled his eyes again.

"What? What is it now?!" I'd banged my fist on the table without really meaning to and dumbly sat back into my chair with less of a glare. I was actually sort of embarrassed at the outburst when George just raised his brow at it. But I had to admit that I was rather impressed I'd been able to make that loud of a bang.

"Yeah, we all know you choose to do it. Just because you choose to do something doesn't mean you can't say you were scared or angry, 'Mione." His words had gotten softer and confused the crap out of me when he leaned across the table, picking up the stick I'd almost forgotten about.

"It's not been great with Fred gone, y'know? Being with someone your whole life and figuring that suddenly you're all alone," I guiltily schooled my expression back to being blank when his voice got a touch gravelly, I was expecting him to possibly cry which I wasn't excited for making him do.

He smiled lightly at the stick, surprising me. "Life's been kinda shitty lately, to be honest. But, it teaches you that it's good to have someone you can talk to."

"I guess." I shrugged after he'd gotten quiet, just staring at the stick as though it held the answers to the universe in it. I wasn't really sure as to what was going on right now, I hadn't made him cry but he was smiling? Was that a good thing?

"You'll see. This weekend we're going to a mediwitch and figuring it out." He smiled at me despite my dismissal of his little monologue.

"You won't even have to pee on anything, but let's keep this for old times sake, ey?" His smile turned into a grin at that while my mouth dropped open and blood began to fill my cheeks out of embarrassment as he held up the test.


End file.
